


la nuit irrésolue, le matin honnête (prince AU #3)

by eliottamoureux



Series: tumblr drabbles/prompt fills [22]
Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Confession, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Love Confession, M/M, again literally just so fucking soft i want to scream, princes au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:13:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21888724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eliottamoureux/pseuds/eliottamoureux
Summary: “What the hell were you thinking?!”; &“I fell in love with you, not them.”or, marriage, crying eliott, nighttime confessions, & kisses at sunrise.
Relationships: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant
Series: tumblr drabbles/prompt fills [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1419991
Comments: 6
Kudos: 144





	la nuit irrésolue, le matin honnête (prince AU #3)

**Author's Note:**

> hello all!! just me popping in yet again with another crossposted prompt fill! this one was for an anon, and the original post can be found [on my tumblr here.](https://eliottamoureux.tumblr.com/post/189217301532/oh-25-and-99) this is a personal favourite of mine, so i hope you enjoy it, too. 💖

Lucas is torn out of his slumber by someone shaking him. His eyes blinking open in the darkness, he can make out the silhouette of one of the royal advisors.

“My lord, my lord—” He straightens up, upon seeing Lucas awake. “My deepest apologies for having awoken you.” As Lucas’ eyes adjust, he can see the concern, plain on Léon’s face. “You have a visitor.” Lucas looks out his window, just to ensure that it really is, in fact, nowhere near sunrise.

“A visitor…?” Lucas’ eyebrows furrow, perplexed. “Léon, it’s the middle of the night, what is—”

“It’s Eliott.” Léon clears his throat quickly, straightening his posture. “Ah, _his royal highness,_ rather _—_ he’s downstairs.” Lucas is up and out of bed in a moment. He grabs for his pants, clothing himself quickly. “He appears rather distressed. He asked for you.” Léon speaks as Lucas hurries around his room, as he finishes pulling on his clothing.

“Take me to him.”

—

Lucas thinks of another time, when Eliott was in trouble. He had fallen ill, when they were both very little. He thinks of when Lucas heard the news, and how his brain shut down completely— save for a desperate, thrumming need to get to Eliott, to help him somehow. He thinks of the fact that this feels just like back then— his feet are moving faster than his brain. As Lucas runs down the staircase, he sees his mother and Eliott, in rapid succession. Firstly, he’s relieved that she’s aware of Eliott— secondly, though, he runs at Eliott, pulling him into a hug without a single word.

“Eliott?” He asks, his voice coming out in a pant. He didn’t realize how hard he had run until he comes to a stop. His racing mind matches his racing heart as he holds Eliott, as Eliott holds him. 

“Lucas.” Eliott’s voice is so _tired_. Lucas hasn’t seen him in months, and he wonders how long whatever’s weighing him down has been doing so. He wants to ease Eliott’s burden, without having to know what it is.

“Are you alright? Are you safe?” Lucas doesn’t know what he’d do if Eliott answers _no_. He knows where the armoury is— he isn’t the best at wielding a sword, but he would fell a million enemies, if it was for him.

“Yes, Lucas I’m—” With him so close, Lucas can hear the way Eliott’s voice quivers, the way his breathing shakes. “I needed to see you.”

“I’m here,” Lucas says, avoiding the way his cheeks warm by pulling Eliott closer, by combing his fingers gently through his hair, “I’m here.” His mother is talking to one of the hands who accompanied her. He looks over Eliott’s shoulder at her.

“Mother, is it alright if he stays?” He asks, though he’s sure that he’s far too old for such a thing. He may only be a prince, but he’s seventeen, he’s an _adult_. 

But, “Of course, sweetheart.” She says, nonetheless. “I’ll send a messenger to your parents, letting them know that you’re safe,” His mother turns, facing Eliott. “And I’ll get everything together to accommodate an extra person, for the next couple days.” Lucas softens, thankful. “Eliott— both of you, get some rest, please.”

“We will. Goodnight.” Lucas’ mother walks off, satisfied. He then turns to Eliott, curled in on himself, his eyelids heavy. “Come on.” Just as they start up the steps, Lucas pauses. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, of course I am. But what are you doing here? In the middle of the night, no less?” 

Eliott thinks, for a long time. Lucas has never seen him spend so much time weighing his words.

“I’ll tell you, I want to tell you everything, but can we just—” He puffs out a breath. “Can we rest, for now?”

“Of course.” They ascend the stairs as the servants extinguish the lanterns, the darkness climbing up behind them.

—

When Lucas opens his eyes, it’s still dark, and he is alone in bed. He thinks that Eliott’s arrival may have just been a dream, before he turns and sees him sitting on the window sill. He’s looking out over the land, one leg hugged to his chest, the other hanging off the ledge, his toes brushing the floor as he swings his leg back and forth gently. The moonlight sets his jawline aglow. It makes him look so ethereally beautiful that Lucas’ breath leaves him, that all he can do is stare. Lucas averts his eyes on instinct, when Eliott looks at him— but when Eliott’s gaze stays, he can’t help but look back.

“I was getting married.” Eliott says, looking back out the window.

“What?” Lucas asks, his voice heavy and raspy with sleep. Surely he didn’t hear Eliott correctly, _surely—_

“That’s why I’m here.” Eliott says, his voice steady enough to scare Lucas, just a little. “I was getting married, and I left my wife-to-be at the altar.” Eliott looks out the window, then down in his lap.

“You— Eliott, you _what?_ ” That spurs Lucas out of bed. He wants to get close, but he’s hesitant, during a moment like this. “What the _hell_ were you thinking?! Leaving a crown-princess? At the _altar_?! That’s—” _Treason,_ he nearly says, though he’s not sure about the nuances of such a matter. Leaving _anyone_ at the altar, though, crown-princess or not… it’s not good.

Eliott’s lips press together to form a tight line, “It’s… a long story.” 

And so, Lucas pushes away the fatigue pulling at his his eyelids, ignores the way sleep still makes his limbs drag, and sits across from Eliott on the windowsill.

“I’ll listen, for as long as it takes.” He says, and counts the way Eliott’s features seem to soften, almost imperceptibly so, as a little victory.

“I didn’t tell you this then, but it started on my nineteenth birthday. After all the festivities had ended, and I was back with my family, they sat me down, and my mother said that it was about time I got married.” Lucas can tell that looking back on this isn’t easy for Eliott, and he’s not sure which he wants more— to know, or to comfort. Because he’s not sure he can do both, right now. “They had gotten married when they were both seventeen, she had said that they had wanted me to get married then, but they allowed me a few years of lee-way. But she basically said, ‘we’ve found a princess, not too far off from here,’ and they had arranged a marriage for me.” Lucas is shocked. He’s shocked less so at the notion of Eliott being part of an arranged marriage— it happens to princes all the time, _especially_ those in line for the crown— he’s shocked that he didn’t know about this, about any of it. “And I didn’t want to, right from the beginning. But I went with it, because I felt like I had to, for the good of my parents,” When Lucas looks up at Eliott, Eliott is looking beyond him, looking _through_ him. “for the good of the kingdom… And it worked. For a while.” Lucas wants to get closer, to take Eliott’s hands in his, to kiss them softly, to pull him in, hold him close again and never let go. “We met a few times, she was smart, witty… This girl, I really started to feel like it could work, like we could fall in love, live happily ever after, you know?” Lucas nods, thinking of someone as smart as Eliott, someone as witty and light and enamouring as he is. 

He can’t.

“—But then things started to go all circular, repetitive. It was the same stuff: the same problems, over and over.” Eliott pauses, and Lucas— unsure of whether or not he’s waiting for a response, breathes out a quiet _ah._ “She could never lose an argument. And the arguments grew more and more frequent. Especially over the wedding.” _Which I didn’t even want to have in the first place_ is left implied. With every step of the story, every brushstroke of the bigger picture, Lucas only grows more horrified for him. “It became more and more apparent to me that I didn’t want to marry her. I couldn’t.” The way Eliott shakes his head, the way his voice has gone soft again, weak— it sounds as if he’s about to cry. “I couldn’t deal with that for the rest of my life. But it was too late. The wedding was scheduled, it was only a few weeks away, and I felt more trapped than ever. Everything was set in place, there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing anyone.” Lucas can picture it now, in terrifying clarity— Eliott, stood at the altar, overwhelmed, trapped. Lucas sees himself there, too— with all of the knowledge of the situation that he now has, with all of the hurt that Eliott feels. Trapped, in a completely different way. 

“—And so I let it happen. Right up until the procession.” “I was stood there, waiting for her. And then I saw her. She was beautiful in her dress.” Eliott smiles, then. There’s something in it— affection, fondness, but not love. “But it was then, that I realized. Leaving would be letting everyone else down, but staying would be letting myself down. And so I ran. I ran as far as I could bear, and then I hid, for a while.” When they were little, Lucas would hear stories of Eliott hiding himself away. It was years before he was shown Eliott’s hiding place, his safe haven. But from that day on, when they hid they did so together. 

“—I came back to my parents, I told them that I couldn’t marry her, that I wouldn’t. I demanded to set out the circumstances of my eventual marriage myself. Told them I wanted to marry someone that _I_ choose, and that I wouldn’t take no for an answer. They ultimately accepted— though not without demanding that I pen a lengthy apology to the girl I almost married.” Lucas can tell that Eliott’s story is effectively over, by the way his shoulders relax, by the way he looks over to Lucas at long last. “But it’s worth it. After nearly a year, I feel free again.” They’re quiet for quite some time after that.

“Eliott,” Lucas is speechless, sick. On instinct, he wants to apologize. _I’m sorry,_ he wants to say, _I’m so sorry you had to go through this, I’m sorry I didn’t know, I’m sorry I didn’t do anything—_ “ _Why_ did you go through all of that by yourself?” Lucas leans forward, taking one of Eliott’s hands in his. “I could’ve… _Been_ there, for you. Why?”

“Because it wasn’t your battle to fight, Lucas.” Eliott’s voice bites, but only in the manner of a wounded animal, scared to reveal its wound. He’s calm again, just as quickly as he lashed out “Because I didn’t want to burden you.” He squeezes Lucas’ hand gently, drawing circles in Lucas’ hand with his thumb.

“Everything is harder on your own.” He stands up, offering a hand to Eliott. When he takes it, he leads him back to the bed. “A healer told me that, once.” Lucas sits down, and Eliott beside him. Silence creeps out between them for a beat. “Eliott, do you remember, when we were younger, and you said that you knew I’d always be by your side?” Lucas watches as his gaze drifts off elsewhere, assumedly remembering their early days together— and Lucas lets himself remember, too— _I’ll never not want you by my side_ , and _do you trust me_ , and _nothing is more important to me than you._ In times of trouble, Lucas remembers Eliott’s words from all those years ago— he just hopes that they’re helpful for Eliott, too. 

“Yes.” When Eliott says it, it’s only a breath, barely there. Lucas could very well have missed it, had he not been paying attention.

But with Eliott, he’s always paying attention. 

“I want to, I _will_ , but you have to let me.” When their eyes meet, Eliott’s are so big, so blue. “I want to be there for you, always, through everything.” Eliott stares him down silently, to the point where Lucas wavers under his gaze, just a bit. His eyes are wide, his expression unreadable. Before he can ask what’s happening, Eliott’s looking down at his lap, and then back up a moment later.

With tears streaming down his cheeks. 

“Eliott,” Lucas is on him in the blink of an eye, pulling him into his chest, “Oh, Eliott.” He can feel Eliott’s shaking breaths, they make his body tremble. In, out; in, out.

And then, all at one, Eliott lets go.

He cries, and he cries. He lets the emotion flow out of him, lets the past year leave him at long last. It’s a floodgate, the way the tears flow— he lets one go and a million more come, unstoppable until there’s nothing left, until he’s weeping softly into Lucas’ shoulder, now soaked. Lucas says nothing, as he holds him. He doesn’t silence, he doesn’t judge— all he does is hold him close and keep him there, for as long as it takes. The night takes his sense of time away— it may have been minutes, it may have been hours— but Eliott’s breathing eventually evens out. Lucas still holds him, though. He keeps him close, until Eliott pulls away himself. When he does, though, their hands are still loosely linked.

“Lucas, I want to tell you something.”

“Of course.” Lucas says, without thinking.

“No, Lucas.” Eliott breathes out a sigh, and Lucas is concerned, at his reluctance. “This _something…_ it’s not like the other somethings.” If Eliott’s just told him all this… Lucas is suddenly unsure that he wants to know what else Eliott has kept from him. “This isn’t just anything— but I need you to promise me, first.”

But it’s Eliott.

And so—

“Anything.”

“I don’t want you to promise, if it’s not something you can keep. If I tell you this, and you don’t feel the same,” _Feel the same?_ Lucas wonders, with a steadily intensifying sickness, in the pit of his stomach. “Because your companionship means more to me than anything that this may change.” He thinks of all of the Lucases and Eliotts that may exist elsewhere, in this world and others. He thinks of all of the things that _could_ be happening to them, the different things that every Eliott, existent in this moment, means.

Lucas is quiet for a long time, then “Yes.” 

“Yes?” Eliott asks, and Lucas nods.

“Yes, I promise.”

“I didn’t love her, because I couldn’t.” Lucas only grows more confused. Eliott using cryptic words is nothing new, and Lucas is just as mystified as ever.

“You _couldn’t_?”

“No,” Eliott shakes his head, and Lucas follows the motion. “Because I was in love with someone else.”

“Oh.” When Lucas laughs, it’s more of a breath than anything else— a quick scoffing sound, there one moment and gone the next. “I can understand why that would create a problem.” All of a sudden, Lucas finds himself looking at the ceiling, at the floor— anywhere but over at Eliott. 

But then.

_Then—_

“You.” Eliott’s voice is calm, soft— but it _cuts_ through the quiet night air. In a breath, the sickness in the pit of Lucas’ stomach is spreading up, sending a tingling throughout his entire torso, because— 

“… Me?” Lucas asks, dumbfounded, awestruck. When he finally risks a glance up at Eliott, he finds that Eliott’s gaze is steady on him, steadier than it’s been all night.

“I fell in love with you, not her.” Eliott drags his fingers back and forth across the palm of Lucas’ hand. “I realized it recently, but it happened long ago— I’m not even sure how young we were.” He can only look back up at Eliott when his gaze falls back to his lap again. When Lucas looks at him, though, there’s the smallest of smiles on his face. “But when I realized, it was like a light coming on, like a homecoming.” The way they’re stealing glances is a game of cat and mouse, but this time, Eliott has him trapped— he looks away, briefly, but he can’t for long. He opens his mouth to speak, more than once, but the words won’t come— “Lucas, please say something.”

They won’t come because—

“Eliott, I—” Because it’s been years. It’s been years of Lucas going hot under Eliott’s gaze, to the point where he’s adapted to it, developed an immunity. “I don’t—” Because he dreamed about this moment, then shoved it deep enough within him that he stopped dreaming about it. “This is like a dream—” But still, _impossibly,_ it returns.

“A good dream, or a bad one?” Eliott asks, looking up at him from behind his eyelashes, his face turned downward. Lucas feels himself on a precipice— one that even the thought of _approaching_ terrified him, for so long. But now— _now—_ he lets himself stand on the edge of it, over the great unknown. 

As he kisses Eliott, he lets himself fall. He kisses Eliott for every iteration of himself— past, present, future. And Eliott kisses him back, again and again and again. Part of Lucas is waiting to wake up— but with the emotion flowing out of him, all at once— he knows this is real. Even his best dreams weren’t _nearly_ as good as this.

“I was eleven.” Lucas breathes, once they finally part. He doesn’t know when his hands rose to Eliott’s shoulders but he keeps them there, to keep him close. Eliott’s smile in back in full force— for the first time all night, Eliott looks like _Eliott_ again. His eyes are still closed and he looks a bit dazed, as if he’s coming back to himself, and Lucas can’t resist kissing him again. “When I fell in love with you, I was eleven.” He thinks back to then, when everything felt strange and new— _especially_ the warmth in his chest whenever he looked at Eliott, newly tall, suddenly so much _more_ than he was— taller, older, more settled into himself than Lucas could ever be. “When you had grown tall, for the very first time, that’s when I knew.” Now, though, everything is stripped. They’re not two princes, two people at the cusp of their adult lives, so much responsibility, so much to keep up with— they’re just two boys kissing, and kissing, and kissing. “I love you— I _have_ loved you, since then.” Eliott’s eyes are so _big,_ and he is so _beautiful,_ and Lucas can’t resist kissing him. “Ardently.” He says against Eliott’s cheek, “devotedly,” into his jaw.

“For six years.” From Eliott’s tone, he thinks he’s saying it more to himself than anything else, taking it in.

“For six years.” Lucas confirms. Eliott pulls him back in, sliding his arms around Lucas’ waist and pulling him into his lap, just a bit.

“Why would you wait so long?” Lucas can feel Eliott’s lips move as he whispers the question against his skin, his hands roaming all over Lucas’ back. Eliott pulls back, but he leaves their foreheads pressed gently together.

“Because you’re worth it.” He doesn’t even have to think about answering— he lets his heart take over, lets it lay him bare. “Because I knew that, if this was meant to be, then it would be.” He runs his fingers through the hair at the nape of Eliott’s neck. “If the world brought me you as a friend, then I would content myself. No matter how desperately I wanted more.” And wanted more he did. No matter how much time he spent denying it, how vehemently he tried— it’s only ever been Eliott, for him. “Because you’re a gift, no matter how I have you.” Lucas chuckles as Eliott hides his face in the crook of his neck. His face is so warm as it rests there, he wouldn’t complain if they stayed like that forever. 

“What if I told you that you can have me in any way,” Eliott says, his breath tickling Lucas’ neck in a way that makes his breath hitch, “ _every_ way, that you desire?”

Lucas looks out the window, seeing the beginnings of sunrise, and thinks of all the possibilities, of all the Lucases and Eliotts, all the universes in which they’re together like this. 

“Then I would fancy myself the luckiest man in the world,” Lucas says as he pulls Eliott down, their laughter quiet as they kiss again (and again, and again).


End file.
